Sparks Fly
by kirbstomper
Summary: When the seemingly ordinary meets the extraordinary.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

There's this terrible rumor going around about pain. I just wanted to be the first to tell you that it's completely untrue; you should definitely not believe it.

You see, for as long as I can remember – which isn't too long if we're being candid – I've always been force-fed this bullshit idea that pain isn't your friend. It's like that awful neighbor that plays his shitty music too loud and lets its dog make mess on your lawn and then claim that it just fertilizes the earth. It's like that feeling you get when you wash your car and a bird takes a nice hot one on it right after. It's like buying the newest craze in tennis shoes and then stepping in the mud. It's not made to be your friend. It's there to hinder you.

I'm here to tell you that that's wrong.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "What does this asshole know?" And you're totally right. I don't know much. I'm not well-versed in a lot of things. I barely passed algebra in high school; I didn't study very much for English class. About the only thing I was any good at was phys ed. And, let's face it…anyone can be good at that.

So I'm not beaming with talent or knowledge. But aren't those the people that surprise us most? It's that kid in class who's probably almost always got his head down, wearing a hoodie and trying to block out any semblance of light. Then, one day, he jerks up from his slumber and starts popping off correct answers left and right. It's best when the moments just hit us. The epiphanies.

I'm here to warn you…I'm not the nicest guy. I'm not intentionally mean…but I'm kind of a dumbass most of the time. At least I recognize it. A lot of dudes run around with their heads filled with hot air. They've just been even glanced at the right way and suddenly their ego is big enough to support carrying a Victorian style home. I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt anyone, but sometimes it happens on its own.

"You're never going to beat me driving like that." The pedals on my bike starting turning so hard I thought they might catch on fire. I was sure acting like something was on fire with the way I was going. The wind was pushing my hair back. The smell of fresh cut grass was being filtered through my lungs. I was racing – and embarrassing – my next-door neighbor. She hated it when I pretended to let her win and then beat her at the last second. I was a reasonable guy, so I decided to smoke her from start to finish this time.

"Slow down, Finn!" she called out from behind. She was a good twenty yards behind me. If it were a football game, I'd have scored on her already.

"I think you're kind of missing the basic point of racing," I said, somewhat out-of-breath, whizzing down the sidewalk at lightning speed.

A few grunts later, she was practically caught up to me. I turned my head with the dopiest expression possible. "How did you…" was all I could get out.

Have you ever seen a five-foot-six 12-year-old take flight and land in the mud? No? Well, it's pretty fucking comical. A few of the neighbors came out to check on me before they busted a gut from laughter.

Rachel couldn't've given a shit less; she was crossing the finish line while I was taking a mud bath. She was also laughing hysterically. It was definitely not the way to win a race.

"Oh my god," she said, bent over from laughing. I was mad for a second. And then she smiled. Her nose scrunched up, her eyes squinted closed, her face got a little red. "You look like an ape or something!"

I looked down at my shirt and pants, both of which were ruined. "Not cool," I said, trying to fake being madder than I was. "You cheated." It was the only excuse I had.

Her laughter eventually subsided and she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. "What?" she said, still smiling from laughing so hard.

"You cheated," I said again, slopping some of the mud back onto the ground.

"Excuse you?" she said, that smile now completely gone. "You're the one who hit the crack in the sidewalk!"

"Yeah well you…" I panicked. "You…" I shook my head, flustered. "You're stupid!" I paused, finding I hit my stride. "And ugly. And smelly."

She stood there for a second and held onto her bike. Her lip began to quiver a little.

"Oh no, I didn't mean that, please don't—" I tried putting my hands up to silence any oncoming wails. It didn't work.

"Don't ever talk to me again, Finn Christopher Hudson!"

"Rachel! Wait! I didn't mean that!" I slopped the rest of the mud off and grabbed my bike – which had a bent rim (karma) and ran after her.

"I said DON'T TALK TO ME!" she protested as she turned sharply into her driveway.

One of her dads was out in the garden. She ran past him, crying as hard as I'd ever seen her. I tried to follow her in, not really remembering that I was caked in mud.

"Young man, I JUST cleaned that carpet," I heard a voice boom over. I froze mid-step. I already knew what the next question was. "What in the world did you do to her?"

I was never much good at lying. Still not.

"I…um…" I cleared my throat and buttered the bread as best as I could. "You see, we were playing, uh, Broadway. She wanted to be Annie." I paused. That seemed believable. "But I wanted to be Annie." I said I wasn't good at lying. "And we got into a fight."

He looked at me incredulously. "You wanted to be Annie?"

"…Yes."

He looked me up and down. "And she…beat you up?"

"Um…not really. You see, I was, uh, walking…and we were trying to practice our jazz hands. Well, I was trying to practice my jazz hands. And I tripped over a rock." I rubbed my arm. "And she still wanted to be Annie, but I said no and…"

"He called me stupid, daddy!" There was a pause in the shrillness. "And ugly." Another pause. "AND smelly."

Busted.

"Finn, I think it's time you go."

I took a few steps back. The dude had a gardening shovel. I wasn't going to argue. "Fine. I'll go." I grabbed my bike and slinked away, her dad watching me from the yard with a confused expression.

 _Ping! Ping!_

I heard a window open and froze.

"Finn? Is that you?" I saw a silhouette emerge from a neighboring window. "That's my dads' room…you should probably stop throwing rocks at it."

"Rachel?" I tossed the pebbles aside. Not one of my brighter ideas. "Rachel is that you?" I couldn't tell, exactly, but I was pretty sure it was. Not many people would be blaring the record to _Cats the Musical_ that late at night.

I heard an annoyed sigh roll through her nose. "What do you want?"

"I came to uh…to say I'm sorry," I said. I took a step closer and prayed she didn't have some type of guard cat. She seemed like the type.

"For?" She folded her arms.

"For calling you stupid." I paused. It was starting to rain a little.

"Go on."

"And smelly." I sighed. "And ugly." I shivered a little.

"Is that it?"

"Well…um…" I frowned. I was pretty sure that was all I said. "Yeah."

I saw her unfold her arms and being to close her window.  
"Wait!" I panicked again. "And you didn't cheat? You and that crack beat me fair and square." The rain was beginning to fall a little more steadily.

She paused and I thought I may have heard a laugh. "What are you doing out this late?"

Making pancakes.

"I came to say I was sorry," I repeated.

"It's pouring down rain, Finn. Go back home." She started to close her window.

"Rachel!" I yelled over the sound of the rain hitting her gutter. "Please don't close the window. I biked two blocks to get here."

"Finn…" She paused with her arms outstretched as if she was hesitant.

"Please? I'm really sorry." I shook some rain off. "You're not any of those things." I sighed. "I wasn't even mad at you, really. I was just pretending."

Her window closed and I was pretty sure my heart broke right then and there. I stood in the yard for another few moments, contemplating how I was going to get back home in the pouring down rain.

Just as I began to turn, I heard a door open.

"Finn!" she called out.

"Rachel? What are you doing?"

She ran over to me; I knew she was serious because she was wearing a Hello Kitty nightgown. And that doesn't seem like the type of thing that most girls wear in the pouring down rain.

I turned back to her completely and we just sort of looked at each other for a minute.

"I came down here to give you this…"

The next thing I knew, my face was in her hands. Her two, precious hands.

People might tell you that there can't be sparks in the rain. Maybe they just haven't been with the right person.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter two_

I've heard a lot of people talk about the moment they fall in love with someone. They'll narrow the moment down to something as simple as a laugh after a joke or the way the person rests their head on their shoulder during a car ride home. Maybe I'm a little different, but I'm not that guy.

See, all of those moments run together in my head like I've lived them a hundred times over, maybe in another life or something. Who knows?

The feeling was always there. And it grew. And grew. And just when I thought I gave it enough water and it didn't need anymore, I went ahead and let it grow some more. See, love isn't given in a moment; it's given in a million little moments. It's given when you let them wear your sweater when it gets too cold out. It's given when they got a bad grade on a test and need someone to hug. It's given when they call you at three in the afternoon just to see how your day is going. Love is a tremendous, powerful thing and it can't be caught in just a fraction of a second. From the very moment I met her, I knew I was hooked.

"Are you ready to go or do you need a few more minutes?" I asked as I finished doing my hair. I didn't have that much hair but I still liked it styled a certain way. You know. For the ladies.

"Finn," I heard her reply. There was a brief pause. And there was a pain in there somewhere, I could just sense it in her voice. "Are the animal sweaters getting a little outdated?"

Truth was, I hated it when she did that. "What do you mean?" I still hadn't gotten used to this game yet. We'd only been "officially" dating for a few months. My mom always said you could be with someone for twenty years and still never know what to expect from them, but I sorta liked it that way with her.

"You don't think I hear what the other students say in school?" She stood in the mirror still trying to perfect her hair.

"I don't really pay attention," I answered honestly. And I didn't. Or I tried not to, but I guess I couldn't blame her for caring about her reputation.

"Do you honestly think the girlfriend of the quarterback needs to be wearing sweaters with…with animals on them?" She was flustered and it showed.

I sighed a little. "It's never bothered me before." I just stood there and watched her for a few moments. I found myself doing that a lot, a lot of times when she wasn't looking. When she was in her natural state – that's to say just not caring about anything for a second – she was so…comforting. She had this calmness to her that I can't really put into words. She was a naturally vibrant and busy person but when she was in her zone, she was my comfort zone. Those were the moments where, above all else, I fell in love with her a little harder.

"You have to say that," she said with a small laugh. "A good boyfriend has to say that." She finally finished her hair and smoothed her hands over her skirt, looking at her sweater in the mirror. "I need to mature my look." She turned toward me and waited for me to agree.

"We're fifteen," I reminded her. "Why do we need to be mature?" I sat on the corner of her bed and looked around her room. "This stuff is totally cool, anyway." I got up and walked over to her dresser. There was a novelty microphone encased in fake gold; next to it there was a gold star trophy. "You never told me about this," I informed her. I found myself wanting to learn all of these little things about her, but in pieces. I wanted to know as much as I could but I wanted to savor it as it came in.

"That?" she said as she watched me with a small chuckle. "I was four." She began to braid the ends of her hair. "And those other dancers were atrocious."

"I didn't know you could dance," I replied a bit softly. That's what she did to me; I was a big, chocolate coating with a gooey, caramel center. Soft.

She plopped down on her bed and continued talking about an array of competitions she entered herself in before the age of five. I continued to walk along her room. Playbills lined the walls.

I interrupted her at some point. "You want to be one of these people, don't you?" I asked as I pointed to the playbill.

She paused. I could read her like a book. She thought I was going to laugh at her – which I would never do – but I could see the worry, even if it was only there for a second. "I want to be better than those," she corrected. "Iconic, even." She bit her lip as she swung her legs, which didn't quite touch the floor from her bed.

I walked over and plopped down beside her, playbill in my hand. "Before you, I thought Oklahoma was just a state." I felt myself smile as she reached up and stroked my cheek. I ducked my head and carefully trailed my finger over the print. "You think we'll outgrow each other?" I rubbed my nose with my elbow.

She frowned. "Outgrow each other?"

"Well, yeah. I don't see a Broadway star sticking with a guy like me."

"A guy like you?" She frowned more.

"Rachel…" I sighed. "You know what I mean."

She turned my head toward her. "No I don't. Tell me." Her eyes narrowed a little.

"What do you think I'm gonna do when I leave this place? You think I'm gonna go star in…like…Iowa or something?"

She laughed. God I loved that laugh. "Finn. I need to be asking you this. I'm dating the quarterback." She paused for emphasis. "The quarterback!"

I chuckled nervously. I wasn't even that good of a quarterback. In fact, I challenged the other guy who was trying out to a pizza-eating contest. He lost, so I was the only person who got to try out. That made me the quarterback. "I'm not a quarterback when I leave here," I reminded her.

Sometimes we had these moments where we didn't say anything to each other. They were pretty rare, but it's almost like there was a mutual understanding between us in those moments where words did nothing. Sometimes silence was just better.

She leaned in and kissed me. I felt her fingers slide around the back of my neck, creeping into my scalp. I loved that feeling and she must've known it. She laid back a little and pulled me down with her. I was always scared to get close to people, but it was easy with her.

We kissed for a few minutes. By this time, I'd already wrapped her up into a hug. I pulled away from her with a smile.

"What was that for?" I asked sheepishly.

She shrugged and continued to play with the ends of my hair. "Felt like it." She grinned.

There were a few more minutes of silence.

"I'm crazy about you, ya know." I smiled more. This was easy. And it was right.

She reached up and pushed her hand through my hair. It completely ruined my five minutes of work I put into it, but somehow that was okay. "I know," she replied quietly.

"I think we missed our reservation," I said lowly with a laugh.

She busted out with a giggle and gave me a playful shove.

I laughed with her and continued to look at her. Don't get me wrong, I'm a guy who loves his food, but some things, at least in the moment, are more important.

"Hey Rachel?"

"Finn?" she replied and batted her eyes playfully.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

She sat up a little and a small frown tugged at her lips. "What's wrong?" She tucked her hair behind her ear. "What is it?"

I had to laugh a little at her immediate reaction. "It's fine…just…stay like that, please?"

She gave me a confused expression. "Finn, this isn't going to be one of those moments where your other girlfriend comes out from the shadows and attacks me is it? My fathers have a very good relationship with the ACLU and…"

"I'm in love with you."

She stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at me. It was the first and one of two occasions where I left her speechless.

I backed off a little. "I know that's fast. I'm sorry." I sat up and gave her room to move.

She smoothed down her skirt a little. Her eyes were still a little wide. "I…"

I felt my face scrunch up.

"When did you…"

"I didn't…"

"Where…"

"I don't know…"

We continued to speak in what felt like code for a second.

I cleared my throat. "I-I'm sorry, okay? Let's just go to Olive Garden." I stood up quickly. "They have a really good house salad." It was the only thing I could think to say. I hurried out of the room. You know those moments where you can feel the color drain from your body and your stomach feels like it hired a guy to come in and take care of his light work? This was kind of one of those moments.

"Finn, wait! You didn't even let me finish!" she yelled. I heard her coming up behind me, quick as she did when we raced bikes.

"It's fine! It's a really good salad!"

"FINN! Wait!"

I got outside and onto the gravel path when she caught up with me.

"You don't even have your shoes on," she pointed out.

I looked down. "Dammit!"

"And I love you, too."

There was another long silence. I don't know whether it was the cold from the ground or the sudden profession of love that made me run back into her doorstep and kiss her. I honestly couldn't tell you. She pulled away after a moment.

"I thought I was never going to be able to tell you." She looked down bashfully.

The house salad was going to have to wait.


	3. Chapter 3

See, I'm a pretty average guy. That's how most people see me and that's sorta how I like it, to be totally honest. I don't have all of these over-complicated thoughts going through my head at light-speed or anything – I prefer to stay right there in the moment. It works a little better for me.

I can't say that with everything, though. It's nice to find people who make you think about things differently. Someone who can make you feel like you weren't made from a cookie cutter – like there is an original thought still floating around out there. And that's where Rachel came in.

Now, I'm not a total sucker. I'm definitely not one of these people that thinks life only has to be good. I guess I prefer balance.

Does anyone's existence really mean anything in your life if they don't give that sense of good and bad? If they don't prepare you to be hurt once in a while? If they don't actively remind you that we're still human and that people don't always hurt each other on purpose? I'm not perfect and sometimes I forget about that rule…but I would much rather have my heart be broken by someone who gave a shit versus going through life with someone who shelters me from everything. We had our ups and downs and that's where the love was.

I reached over and carefully tucked the hair back from her face. It was 6:00 AM and I figured she'd be up soon. As far as I went, I hadn't slept all night. She slept like a rock, actually, which is pretty funny to me, even to this day. There was no waking her up once she fell asleep.

It probably sounds weird, but people are so interesting when they're asleep. It's sorta like seeing them enter a separate reality. They're not someone else but they're not quite themselves, either. I loved seeing who she got to be for a few hours a night.

"What're you doing?" she asked as she woke up.

"What were you dreaming about?" I asked, ignoring her question.

She sat up on her elbows, covered from the chest down by my comforter. She smirked over at me. "Just this really handsome guy." She reached over and poked me in the cheek. "Maybe you know him?"

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "Yeah? Does he have my facial structure?"

She cupped my face in her hand and pulled my cheek in for a kiss. "You're much more handsome," she assured. She pulled away and rolled over; she stood up on her tiptoes, stretched out as far as she could go. It's true that you really look at someone differently once you've seen them with their clothes off. She reached over in my drawer and pulled out a t-shirt, which was comically large on her.

"What do you usually eat for breakfast?" She sat on the edge of my bed, Indian- style.

"Breakfast?" I felt my nose wrinkle. "Maybe a donut and coke," I replied honestly. "It's not my priority."

She looked appalled immediately. "Coke? You drink soda for breakfast?" She walked into the kitchen – which was adjacent to my room – and continued interrogating my nutritional choices. "Donuts?" She chuckled. "How about…" I heard my cabinets open. "Blueberry pancakes and…" I heard my pantry being disassembled as she spoke. "Grapefruit…" She continued to rummage. "And I suppose I can make some turkey bacon."

I'm a guy who loved his bacon but I sure as hell wasn't eating it off a turkey. "Did you say turkey?" I asked as I stood up and slid my shorts on.

"Your mom doesn't cook for you?" she asked, seeming surprised.

I walked in and joined her, leaned over on the counter. "My mom doesn't really have a lot of time to worry about what animal I get my bacon from," I joked. She didn't laugh.

"If you want to get your day going right, you need to make sure you have the proper energy." She poked my belly. "And coke with donuts isn't going to cut it."

I looked down at my stomach. Seemed okay to me. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, suddenly looking for something to cover up with.

She pouted a little as she mixed the blueberries into the batter. "It doesn't _mean_ anything," she said in corrective tone. "Just that a growing boy needs vitamins and minerals." She looked over her shoulder at an empty soda can. "Not whatever you call that." She turned her attention back to her stirring.

I always had…er…have this really weird talent of fucking good things up right when they've gotten where they need to be. This wasn't any different, of course.

"This isn't going to be one of those things where you're like…super-controlling of me, is it?" I sat on one of our bar stools. "Because I dunno if I can deal with that," I added with an honest tone.

She paused and her head rolled back between her shoulders for a second. "I'm just trying to help you," she said as if she was reminding me of it.

"Yeah, I know." I walked over and took the bowl from her, setting it aside. "But…" I hesitated. "This is like…" I felt my face wrinkle. "Mom stuff."

She made a horrified expression. "I beg your pardon!"

"I-I mean not that that's not cool and all," I added quickly. That was strike one.

She jerked the bowl away from me. "Well I don't care what you think." She paused for emphasis. "I'm making my boyfriend a lovely breakfast that we're going to enjoy together like my dads and I do on Sunday mornings."

"See, this is why everyone thinks you're a dork." That was strike two.

She stopped again. I saw her face began to twist oddly. "Everyone?"

I froze. This was a trick or something. I just had that feeling. "Well…not…everyone," I replied thickly. "There's…uh…" I rubbed my neck. "Tina! Yeah. I'm pretty sure Tina doesn't think that." I smiled proudly. But….it's like the guy who hits the ball and takes off to first, thinking he's done something great when in reality he's just wasted effort and the ball wasn't anywhere close to being counted in.

She shoved the bowl back at me. "Fine," she said. I heard her voice crack. "Eat what you want." She made tracks to my room and slammed the door. Not only was I out of breakfast, I was locked out of my own room. In my underwear.

Thankfully mom was gone that weekend so her and I pretty much had the place to ourselves. She could have locked me out on the front lawn that way if she felt like it, but she showed me mercy. I gave her about twenty minutes to calm down; it seemed like a solid number.

Carefully, I knocked on the door. The room wasn't locked, per se, but I wanted to give her some space. "Rachel?" I said, head managed to sneak between the cracks. "Can I come in?"

She lay on my bed, back facing me. She'd changed into a white and yellow sundress. Cute as a button. She shrugged in response to my question.

"You know I didn't mean that," I began. Truthfully, I wasn't sure what I meant. "I know that being a dork isn't necessarily a bad trait. Some of the coolest people in the world were complete dorks. Take that guy Einstein, for example."

She sat up and gave me the look. You know that one. "Are you fucking serious?" She didn't have to say it, either. Her eyes spoke for themselves. She lay back on her side, her pillow angrily embraced beneath her. I felt a little sorry for it, actually.

"Maybe last night was a mistake," she said. I could tell she didn't mean it; her feelings were hurt.

"What're you talking about?" I demanded, but gently of course.

"Maybe we rushed." She shrugged. "Maybe we don't know each other well enough yet." There was a long pause. "Maybe you didn't get…" She sniffled. "Maybe you didn't get a good enough idea of who you were signing up to be with," she added sadly. She began to wipe tears away but I did it for her. She seemed more serious now.

"What're you…"

"You know, it's not like this was a surprise to you." She sat up and grabbed her overnight bag, combing through it. "It's not like you didn't know that I was _that_ girl." She ran a brush through her hair.

"But I…"

"You think it's easy for me?" She quickly turned around. "B-being with the most popular guy in school?" She put her hands on her hips. "You think I don't think about that?" She wagged her brush at me. I, of course, was a little too terrified to respond. "You think that I wasn't thinking about all of those things last night? That you wouldn't go run off and tell your friends how bad I was?" She stopped to nervously examine the end of her brush.

I felt my face fall a little. I stood up and carefully pulled her into a hug. "It was the greatest three minutes of my life." (Don't laugh.)

"You're just saying that," she mumbled into my shoulder. "I bet every other girl you've been with beats me by a mile," she added.

I continued to hug her. "Shh."

"Finn Christopher Hudson, do NOT shush—"

"Shh."

She sighed and stopped talking (finally.)

We stood there for a moment. Like I said, silence seemed to work pretty well for us. "You were my first, you know."

There was another long pause. "Your…"

I nodded.

"But you're…"

"I know."

"But I'm…"

"I know."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious." I pulled away to look down at her before I sat on my bed. My hand sank down to hers and I felt my thumb circle her palm.

She sat on lap after a moment of standing there, looking a little confused. "Are you lying?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Rachel." I chuckled. "I didn't even know half of those things were going to happen."

She blushed. "Me either," she mumbled. "But you did great," she said. It was sort of weird to hear, mostly because I'd never been evaluated on that level before. I never understood how you could be bad at it, but she seemed like a pretty good reference for opinion.

"I was scared, you know." I cleared my throat. "Terrified, actually." I looked up at her. "But you know what made it okay?"

She looked down sheepishly. "No."

"Seeing you there…" I felt my face redden. "J-just…there. You know? Lost in the moment, I guess. It's like…" I looked toward my window. "You were the only person in the world." I looked over in her general direction again. "I know it doesn't make sense. But all I cared about in that moment was making sure you were okay."

"I was great." She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "And you made me feel like I was the only girl in the world."

"You were." I rubbed her arm. "And we can be dorks together."


End file.
